LBATF: Welcome Home Memories
by chronicler-of-knuckles
Summary: J.D. is so sure that today is the day Buck is coming home.


TITLE: Welcome Home Dreams AUTHOR: The Chronicler RATING: PG WARNINGS: A little heart ache UNIVERSE: LB/ATF CHALLENGE: W.O.W. 05-10-05 -- DEATH SUMMARY: J.D. is so sure that today is the day Buck is coming home.  
NOTE: A follow up to The Good Bye Talk ARCHIVE: Pretty please.  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please.  
EMAIL: Homes Dreams By The Chronicler 

J.D. sat on the top step of the porch, his legs stretched out before him, tapping one heal on the step below. He leaned back on his elbows and watched as the white clouds drifted pass in the bright blue sky.

* * *

Across the yard the horses pranced with high steps, heads held high, mirroring each others moves in some rhythmic pattern, like dancing to a waltz. Which just happened to have been what the birds were singing as they swayed to and fro through the air above them all. Butterflies fluttered about, one pausing to land on J.D.'s knee and smiled at him, fluttering her long eye lashes. The chickens drummed on the ground with their beaks, keeping rhythm with the waltz. The pump feeding the trough with gleaming, clear, cool water had a shimmering rainbow over it with a tiny pot of gold at either end.

Somewhere in the distance a Calvary trumpet blared.

The horses and birds and butterflies paused, and all turned to look down the drive.

J.D. sat up and leaned forward so that he too could see down the drive.

Riding on the back of a great white stallion, a war horse, decked out in all the finery and medals that would put any General to shame, was Captain Buck Wilmington of the Army Reserves. The white horse came down the drive in a side step motion, every step bouncing Buck's sword against his thigh to a rhythmic beat.

The birds looked at one another, and, again, picked up a song. The horses reared up in salute, wining their greeting before dropping back to the ground and continuing their dance.

"Da!" J.D. cheered, jumping to his feet and running down the steps.

Buck's deep booming voice sounded from atop the white stallion. "My wonderful son, oh how I have missed you!" He jumped down from his mount, the stack of colorful medals covering his entire chest jingling. Tilting his head to one side, placing his hands on his hips, he wondered "Does my bestest boy in the whole, wide, wonderful world know what his father did today?"

J.D. gazed up at the big man. "What'd you do, Da?" he wanted to know.

"I caught the big bad guy, threw all the little bad guys behind bars, blew up some big bad weapons, fed orphans, built schools, healed the blind, walloped Mr. Joans for giving you that C in history, and bought you a brand new pony!" He threw his arms wide and grinned, waiting for the proper response.

J.D. jumped up and down and clapped his hands. "You are the bestest Da!" he giggled, jumping up into his father's arms and hugging him for all he was worth.

Buck hugged him back, adding "But you know what the bestest of everything was?" He looked very serious at his son and told him "I'm coming home today!"

"Really?"

Buck nodded. "Really."

"Really really?" chirped the birds.

Father and son looked up and Buck assured "Really really!" He looked at his son again and promised "I'm coming home to stay!" He set the boy down and put his hands on his hips. His Superman cape snapped out in the wind behind him as he stood tall and brave and strong. "So, you better wake up and get ready. I'm coming home!"

"Yahoo!" J.D. cheered.

* * *

Chris shot upright in bed almost before he heard the cry. His hand was just a breath from the hilt of his gun when he stopped, finally recognizing the voice. "J.D.?" he called..

He heard a door bang open, followed by little feet running down the hall. His own door was thrown open, revealing little J.D. in bare feet and X-Men's Wolverine pajamas. He waved his hands in the air frantically, yelling "Why aren't you up yet? Get up! Get up! He's comin' home!" Then spun about and ran down the hall again and out the front door.

Chris frowned. "What the hell...?" Snatching up his robe, he climbed out of bed and hurried after.

Vin was half asleep, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom as his father passed. "Chris?" he mumbled.

Chris glanced down at his son. "Go back to bed, Vin. Everything's alright." he assured.

Vin yawned, turning and dragging his feet back to bed. "Alright? J.D.'s lost it. Think we should have him committed... least 'til 6:30... 8:00 on saturdays."

Chris stopped and looked at him. For a moment he wondered if he was right. Too many more nightmares, and J.D. won't be the only one losing it.

The boys had taken some looking after when they had two men looking after them. But now they were down to one...

Ever since Buck had been called into service with his Reserve Unit, J.D. had spent half his nights tossing and turning and the other half tucked into Chris' or Vin's bed, denying them any possible sleep.

Of course, yelling and running out the front door at... what the hell time was it?... 5:16am was new.

Chris Larabee stopped in the front door way and watched as J.D. ran up and down the porch, down to the bottom step to get a better view down the drive, then back up and climbing up onto the rail so he could get a higher look at the drive.

"Damn, I can't wait 'til your uncles get here." Chris mumbled to himself. The guys were spending as much time as they could out at the ranch with J.D., trying to keep his mind off his missing father and trying to give Chris and Vin a brake. It was Saturday morning... almost... which meant the guys would be out in time for brunch and midmorning cartoons with the boys.

Tugging his robe around him to ward off the early morning chill, Chris stepped out on to the porch. "J.D.? What are you doing?" he asked around a yawn.

J.D. glanced back at him over his shoulder. "Buck's comin' home! Today! Today!" He clapped his hands excitedly, but suddenly had to grab the post as he nearly threw himself off the rail.

Chris quickly stepped up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Not enough to remove him from his perch, but just enough to make sure that, if he fell, he wouldn't fall far. "Hey, buddy, I know you want Buck to come home. So do I. So do we all. But, I can guarantee you, he won't be coming home at this time of night. You know how he feels about Saturday mornings? Can't get him out of bed without a sweet roll, hot coffee, and Dragon Ball Z. So, what you say we go back to bed and..."

"Sweet rolls!" J.D. wiggled out of Chris' arm and jumped down onto the porch. He hurried back into the house and, within a breath, Chris could hear clanging in the kitchen.

"Now what?" he groaned, reluctantly following.

He found J.D. in the kitchen, the big cook book out on the table, along with the flour, sugar, eggs, and something that had probably been a pad of butter... before it had hit something hard and unforgiving... which would explain that cold, icky stuff Chris had just stepped in.

"Son of a..." Chris snapped his teeth shut just before he let it slipped.

J.D. glanced at him, then turned back to the book. "How do you make Sweet rolls? I think this is the wrong page. What's Maiden Oysters? They look icky."

Snatching the dish towel off the sink, Chris leaned against the fridge and lifted his foot so as to clean the butter out from between his toes. "J.D. can't we do this in the morning?"

"It is morning." J.D. protested. He turned the page and made a gagging sound at that picture, quickly turning to the next page. "Ah! Crab Cakes!" He looked up at Chris and grinned that grin he learned from Buck. "Must be getting closer."

With a sigh, Chris glanced out the window. Okay, there was a sliver of light just over the horizon. The sun was coming up. It was, technically, morning. But, as any sane, hard working man would be proud to announce... "It is not morning until I've had some coffee! And the coffee maker doesn't turn on until 7:30!"

J.D. looked up at Chris again. "But... But Buck's comin' home today." he wined, those big eyes getting all moist and teary, and his bottom lip started to tremble until he sucked it in between his teeth. His little hands shook, and he whimpered.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ah, hell." he groaned. Slaunching over to the coffee pot, he threw the switch, starting the very much needed, vital for life caffeine brewing. Dropping down in a chair across from J.D., he mumbled to no one in particular "Buck sure as all get out better get home soon... or you're gonna be the death of me." When J.D. ignored him, he offered "Try page 136."

With a grin, the child quickly found the page. "Sweet rolls!" he cheered. "Yea!"

"yea." Chris repeated before dropping his head down on the table.

* * *

Ezra's eyes narrowed and he glanced down at young Vin Tanner suspiciously. "Are you cheating?" he wondered.

Vin looked up at him and laugh. Waving a hand at the game box, he protested "It's Spiral! How can I cheat at Spiral? Not like I can slip your control up my sleeve without you noticing."

Not convince, Ezra turned his attention to his controller. "Is this thing even plugged in?"

Again Vin laughed. "Uncle Ezra!"

Nathan patted Ezra's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. After all, he played the first game with only slightly better results than Ezra's game. "Chear up, Ez. Maybe the storm will knock out the power."

Both men turned to look out the window at the heavy rain, silently urging the wind to push just a little harder, the lightening to strike just the right pole, the rain fall just a bit heavier... hoping, praying even, that the storm would knock out the power and they could retreat to the more farmilar games, such as poker.

Vin giggle, rocking back and forth on the floor.

When the power remained stubornly on, they sighed their disapointment and turned back to the x-box game.

"Are you sure that thing is supposed to fly?" Ezra looked up at Nathan for an answer.

The medic could only shrug.

But Vin nodded frantically. "Of course! He has wings! Why'd they give him wings if he wasn't supposed to fly?"

"He has a point." Nathan agreed.

Ezra threw them both a glare before reminded them "Ever heard of a penguin?"

Vin just rolled on the floor, laughing.

Smiling and shaking his head, Josiah stepped back out onto the porch where J.D. was coloring on a long, rolled out paper. "How's the banner going, kiddo?" he wondered, crouching down beside the boy.

"Allllllmost finished." J.D. assured. he paused to look up at his uncle. "Can we put it up over the fire place? I wanted to put it up on the barn, but it's raining. Dumb, stupid rain... it'll get it all wet an' icky an'..."

"And I think it will look great over the fire place." Josiah assured, cutting off what he knew would be a very long explanation. There was something else he wanted to talk to the boy about. "I don't want you to be disappointed if Buck doesn't make it today."

J.D. glanced up at him, but quickly turned back to his Welcome Home banner. "He'll be here." he promised. "I know."

"Well, they do try to give families a bit of warning before sending army boys home. You know. Give us a chance to throw a big party." Josiah tried.

"'Course!" J.D. threw a hand in the air. "But, that's why its perfect. Buck knows you guys are always here. We're all ready for a party. It's perfects!" He looked up again and grinned. "I even made sweet rolls... all by myself!"

Josaih chuckled. "Yes, I've seen the kitchen." With a sigh, he rose to his feet and stepped back to the porch bench and sat down.

"Thanks for trying." Chris mumbled from where he leaned against the door frame.

Josiah shook his head. "Wish I could convince him..."

"That his father isn't coming home?" Chris cut him off.

Josiah shrugged. "Maybe he knows something we don't. Maybe all that's left is his imagination. Maybe it's best we don't try and take that away."

"Maybe I should take a little trip to Iraq and haul Buck's ass back to where it belongs."

Josiah chuckled softly. "I'm sure his commanding officers would just love that."

"Like I give a..." Chris stopped. He pushed away from the door way and stared down the drive. "Josaih? You seeing what I'm seeing?"

Josaih stood up again. "Well, I'll be damned."

Coming down the drive was an army green car with military plates. It was an ordinary car with a yellow ribbon tied to the attena. It splashed here and there as it hit puddles, the windshield wipers working extra hard against the rain.

"Da!" J.D. cried as he too saw the approaching car. Jumping up and down he gathered up his banner and tried to hold it up.

But, when the car came to halt at the foot of the steps, it wasn't Buck Wilmington who climbed out. Stepping out of the passenger side was an officer in dress uniform.

J.D. stopped his bouncing to frown at him. "You ain't Buck." he accused. he thought on that fact for a moment, then stood on his tippy toes, trying to see around the man and into the car. "Is Buck in there? Did you bring him home? Where is he?"

The officer hesitated. "Umm... no, I'm sorry... Buck' is not with me." He looked up at Chris and Josiah. "My apologies for interrupting you day, sirs. I am looking for a Christopher Larabee?"

"You found him." Chris stepped down the steps. "What can I do for you... Captain?"

The man tucked his hat under his arm and held out a yellow telegram. "Sir, it with great sorrow that I must..."

"Stop right there!" Chris suddenly snapped, holding his hand up. he quickly spun away and looked at J.D. "Josiah..."

Josiah scooped the little boy up. "Come along, half pint. Let's see how your banner looks over the hearth."

"But I wanna know what's he so sorry for!" J.D. protested as he was carried back into the house. "If'n he broke somethin' Chris ain't gonna be happy. An' Chris, he gets all funny lookin' when he's angry... well, when he ain't angry at me anyhow."

"I'm sure Chris will tell us all about it in a few moments." Josiah assured as he closed the door behind them.

Chris watched the door for a moment, almost wishing it would open again and delay him from turning around and taking that little slip of paper that man was waiting for him to take. But, when it didn't open, he knew that there was nothing left to do. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned. "You were saying, Captain?"

Nodding with understanding, the officer held out the telegram.

Chris forced his hand out, clamped his fist around the paper, and dropped it the his side, not even daring to glance at it. Instead he asked "Where is he?"

The Captain shook his head. "We don't know." he admitted.

Chris' eyes narrowed. He had suffered weeks, months even, of worry. He had had very VERY little sleep, spending his nights trying to comfort a little boy who knew damn well that his father was on the other side of the world, risking his life at a war that he even explain to the boy. And now he was being told... !

This Captain just rode up the wrong drive way, delivering the wrong news!

"What... the... hell... do... you... mean... YOU DON'T KNOW!"

But the Captain had had the misfortune of delivering this news before. And Chris was not the first irate recipient... ...though he did look to be the most irate.

Keeping his composure, he explained "Captain Wilmington's unit was escorting a group of English contractors to their work stations. The unit was attacked and a number of the civilians were taken hostage." The Captain paused, his eyes shifting to the little blond boy watching them through the front window. He quickly snapped his eyes back, reminding himself not to get distracted, not to loose himself in their emotions. They needed him to be strong. Needed him to say what needed to be said. To be there for the family, let them know and always remind them that every American soilder was part of the Army family. And the Army looked after their...

"Spit it out, soilder!" Chris snapped. "Where the hell is Buck?"

The Captain snapped to, instantly responding to the command. "Sir! Captain Buck Wilmington, sir, is missing in action."


End file.
